


This Wicked Game

by adharraa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Voltron, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Misunderstandings, No Humans In This Sorry Not Sorry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Political Alliances, Political Marriage, Slow Burn, Spying, Two Very Conflicted Kids Caught Between Their Parents' War, Warring Planets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adharraa/pseuds/adharraa
Summary: When it becomes clear that Altea and Daibazaal are on the brink of an open war, King Alfor and Emperor Zarkon are given an ultimatum: Being kicked out of an Intergalactic Alliance that their people are dependent on or form an alliance through the marriage of their children. An alliance neither want initially but find that they can manipulate and work it to their advantage.And what of Lotor and Allura? Neither want anything to do with this alliance but now must make a show of it for the universe while doing their fathers' bidding behind closed doors...
Relationships: Alfor/Melenor, Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Honerva/Zarkon
Comments: 19
Kudos: 66





	1. An Ultimatum

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, I am starting yet another multichaptered fic! This fic is brought to you by a conversation I had with some friends on Discord. There is entirely a lack of arranged marriage fics for VLD Lotura and Voltron-less AUs so have this one. I thought it would be fun to explore a scenario where Altea and Daibazaal never had an alliance to begin with. A few things: 
> 
> 1) Yes, in this AU, Alfor and Honerva were engaged. It was one-sided. They were childhood friends. But she left him to be with Zarkon, which made the tensions between Daibazaal and Altea worse.  
> 2) This first chapter has Alfor and Zarkon’s respective POVs BUT the main characters are Lotor and Allura. This is a lotura fic and the other couples are shown from time to time.  
> 3) Next update will be in November! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! 💜💖

It was as it was every year. A large room with countless leaders filling an equal amount of seats. The room was lit just enough for the planetary leaders to be able to see each other’s faces. The Intergalactic Assembly, a rather recent development in the universe’s history, but an effective one. 

There was a fair amount of buzz of chatter as the convention lingered on. The most pressing issues came first as they always did. Famine, a regime change, even tensions between planets. Typically, this was to de-escalate potential situations in a controlled space where leaders could talk. And if they could not, there would be an ultimatum issued. 

It was a necessity. Most of the leaders were not happy to be there. Most of them didn’t want other planets to stick their nose in their planet’s affairs, but it worked. Pride was kept in check and egos were cut down to size. This worked almost always. _Almost_. 

As was tradition, King Alfor of Altea and Emperor Zarkon of Daibazaal were glaring daggers at each other. This would inevitably escalate into a battle of the words. There was always something that went on during the now cold war between the two planets. Every year there was something. Even the presiding chairman, ever calm and stoic, was visibly aggravated. 

Zarkon’s fist came down hard on the table, “It was your ships that attacked our own first and you have the gall to sit there in your self-righteousness and accuse me of being a warmonger?!!”

There was a collective groan that could be heard around the room but Zarkon and Alfor seemed to remain completely unaware of this fact. Even leaders from their same system covered their faces in shame. 

“Whatever happened was not on my order! I am not responsible for what a handful of my own people do!” 

“Yet I am for what mine do?!” Zarkon barked right back. 

“I don’t know! You are a race of warlords! For all I know, you quite enjoy the conflict!” Alfor bit right on back. The tension was thick enough to be cut through with a blade. 

“AND WHY WOULD I BE HERE THEN? YOU ACCUSE ME OF TRYING TO START A WAR WHEN IT IS YOU WHO IS INSTIGATING THE WHOLE THING?” 

Alfor’s eyes narrowed, “Am I really, Zarkon? As I recall I was willing to settle this. But you decided to run off with _my_ fiancée!” 

“ _ENOUGH_!”

The room went silent. The Chairman rarely had to raise his voice, even when he was calling for order. But it was the mention of Zarkon’s one crime against Alfor that made everyone go silent. Most of them remembered it well. Zarkon committed the most grievous sin of falling in love with Lady Honerva of Altea and she with him. And the two eloped before the convention had officially concluded, causing a huge scandal. But it was a matter of the heart that couldn’t be helped. And it left the Altean King humiliated. And most of them dared not bring it up. 

“Enough!” the Chairman stood up, his pale face red with anger. The steam could be seen coming out of his ears. 

The two men closed their mouths and sat back down in shame as the Chairman glared them down. They were waiting for the usual reprimanding. 

“Every time we convene, _every void forsaken time_!” he growled. “It is more than clear to me now that neither of you will ever settle this peacefully. And I cannot ignore this as this has been a constant nuisance to everyone here and several treaties!” 

Alfor was going to open his mouth but he was glared down. 

“So you have left me no choice! You are forcing my hand so I must issue both of you an ultimatum. Be kicked from this room, all resources will be cut off from your planet and trade with every single planet in this alliance will cease for both of you. OR...you will come together through marriage.” 

Both men’s blood ran cold. _Marriage_...

“Alfor, you have a daughter and Zarkon has a son. Before the next deca-phoeb, I expect them and your people to be united. UNDERSTAND? If we must all suffer this again next deca-phoeb, I can promise to kick both of you out of this alliance!”

There was a buzz of approval coming from around the room. Alfor’s blood was running cold. It was just constant humiliation after another wasn’t it? And now it was betrayal. His own friends were among those nodding in approval. Gyrgan of Rygnirath gave him a look of a silent plea. Blaytz of Nalquod tried to smile but it wasn’t working so he shrugged. Trigel of the Dalterion Belt crossed her arms and looked up at him expectantly. It stung and he glared down at them. 

“You all sit there and demand that I give my daughter, the _JEWEL_ in my crown, to a race of barbaric warlords so that they may do with her whatever they please? And you all cheer for it?” he asked the room incredulously, his voice cracked at the end. It seemed to move no one. 

A growl came from Zarkon, “Aside from the racially charged insult from Alfor, my people are already not accepting of my own marriage to a non-Galra woman. What makes you think that they’ll accept even more Altean in our bloodline?” 

“You sit there on your pedestal and pass judgment and you expect us to simply, go with it?!?!” Alfor was yelling louder now. The one time he could say that he agreed with Zarkon on something. And it would be just this once. 

Their children could not marry. It would not happen. 

The Chairman did not budge. If everyone else was unmoved, he was a rock against the tides. He was not impressed. He was very much angry. 

“Perhaps you should’ve thought of that before. All in favor of a marriage alliance between Altea and Daibazaal to end on-going conflict, say aye.” 

There was a chorus of “aye” that could be heard from around the room. It was yet another slap in the face. 

The Chairman sat back on his chair and smirked, “End of the deca-phoeb, you fools. I suggest you listen to me. Your people will continue to suffer otherwise...”

* * *

Zarkon left the convention without a word to anyone. Gyrgan, Blaytz, and Trigel tried to reason with him and Alfor. But neither of the men would hear of it. Their hands were tied in the matter. Being vulnerable against the universe was not an option, powerful as they were. Everyone was already annoyed. The three of them just watched helplessly as their two friends went in opposite directions, refusing to talk to any of them. 

He could see Alfor storming off to his own royal cruiser. They did not make eye contact. They refused to be within a hundred feet of each other. And now they had to sell their children in order to maintain a fragile peace. 

He could feel bile in the back of his throat. 

The entire journey back to Daibazaal was an unhappy one. Zarkon found himself glaring at the stars. They really did love their jokes. Many years ago, he had come so close to that peace. Alfor and he were almost friends. 

But he had thrown it away all to be with the one he loved. And now it seemed that there was irreparable damage in the relations between both planets. Alteans hated the Galra. The Galra hated the Alteans. 

As a result, Honerva was loathed. The Altean Woman, the witch who had ruined any chance of peace. The woman for whom Zarkon would take no other. The woman who had only given Zarkon one child and no other. 

A prince who had to grow up between two enemy worlds. This unwilling alliance would only serve as a reminder of what he was the product of. 

And Honerva? What would she think? 

Zarkon closed his eyes, trying to think. This was a fine mess that he had created for himself… 

—

Despite everything, Zarkon felt himself relax as he entered the room that he shared with Honerva. There was peace here. There was warmth. 

There was a woman who loved him. A woman who supported him through all of the difficulties. The woman with whom he could be Zarkon. Not Emperor Zarkon, Ruler and Protector of Daibazaal, but simply Zarkon. This woman, who had faced all the hatred with dignity, was always there to welcome him with open arms. 

She had a holopad in front of her, presumably for work. She looked up to smile. 

“Husband,” she greeted, standing up. She didn’t bow when they were alone, so she instead opened her arms wide. He practically ran into them. 

She was much smaller than him, he was aware. But he needed her right now. And she seemed to stiffen up a bit, sensing his distress. 

“Zarkon?” she asked softly. 

He didn’t answer right away, thinking about what he could say to her. All the time between the convention and Daibazaal, but he couldn’t think of what to say to his wife. This whole thing was a mess. Zarkon was short when mentioning the conventions, only mentioning the same old things over and over. He intentionally left Alfor out of it. 

It was not a name that she thought fondly of anymore. 

Now, he had no choice. She would be tied to Alfor whether she liked it or not. 

She got to work removing his armor as soon as he sat at the edge of their bed. It was soothing, her very presence. No one else knew the Honerva that he knew when they were alone. She was a scientist, devoted to her work and dedicated to results to everyone who worked with her. But to Zarkon, she was a loving wife. She understood him. She was the only person who ever had. 

He wanted nothing more than to lie back and hold her for the rest of the night. But this couldn’t wait. 

“Something happened at the convention…” she said. It wasn’t a question. “I assume it has to do with…” 

He grabbed her small hand and brought it to his lips. He felt her other hand stroke the back of his head. He could get lost in the sensation, it had been quintants since he had felt her touch. But it couldn’t wait. He had to rip the bandage off. The sooner, the better. 

“Where’s Lotor?” he asked. He sounded so hoarse that he flinched at the sound of his own voice. 

“Training of course, as he always does,” Honerva responded, going back to removing the bits of armor. 

“I need to speak to him. I need to speak to both of you actually…” 

The sooner, the better… 

—

Lotor was punctual, as always. He stood in front of his father with a solemn expression. He was quiet and respectful, waiting for his father to speak. Zarkon made it a point not to dote on his only child. Quite the opposite. A spoiled prince, he could never be. 

He was his heir. He would have to be prepared for anything. He had to be tough on him. He had to be hardened. It was for his own good. And only when it came to Lotor’s upbringing, Zarkon didn’t listen to Honerva’s pleas. 

And he came out rather well all things considered. Then again, Zarkon didn’t see much of his son these days… 

And for all of that, Zarkon still didn’t feel comfortable selling his son to an alliance that Zarkon wanted no part of. But it had to happen. And Lotor had to obey. 

Zarkon took a good look at him. From a distance, Lotor looked Altean. The facial structures and even the hair he had inherited from his mother. But Lotor was more Galra in physique than anyone gave credit for. He was built like one of them. His skin was purple and his claws and fangs were quite obviously Galra. He had Zarkon’s eyes but Honerva’s eye shape. Whenever he became angry, Zarkon could see his own features in the boy. 

He was the perfect mix of the both of them. 

But he was also his own man. He was clever, perhaps too clever. He was charming and charismatic. Everything Zarkon wasn’t. He had gotten frequent reports on his son’s progress over the years.

It was then something clicked in Zarkon’s. Perhaps this could work. Whether it brought peace or destruction, Lotor getting close to the girl was a benefit. Perhaps he could finally be able to move against Alfor and put an end to all this. Although he would need Honerva’s input, it could work. 

But he was still very clearly the son of Zarkon and Honerva… 

Alfor would notice. Alfor’s girl would probably notice. And Zarkon inwardly, grimaced. 

_It couldn’t wait. It is what it is. His hands were tied and he felt helpless._

He looked up at Lotor, relaxing every muscle in his face so that his son could not see the stress that it was causing him. He could feel Honerva’s eyes on him as well. He took a deep breath. 

“The Intergalactic Assembly has given me no choice. We are to enter an alliance with Altea. Through marriage. Get ready, boy. You are to wed King Alfor’s daughter, the Crown Princess Allura by the end of the deca-phoeb…” 

* * *

Alfor stood in the doorway, observing his daughter through. 

His wife Melenor stood behind him, a comforting presence. She didn’t ask anything, she never did. She was loyal and duty-bound as always. After the humiliation of Honerva running off with Emperor Zarkon, Melenor had been the rock to support him. 

In her own way, he supposed that she understood him. It made sense that Melenor was a healer. But she never truly could heal him. Not really. The wound that Honerva had given him ran deep. A blow to his trust. But even with it, he had come to love Melenor. 

She was a beloved Queen. The mother to all their people in a sense. He counted himself lucky to have her. And because of her, he had his Allura. His juniberry bud. The jewel in his crown. 

The daughter whom he had raised to be a servant to her subjects. The fiercely loyal daughter who was aware of Zarkon’s transgressions against him. 

How could he ask such a thing of her? 

“Do not hate me for what I am about to tell both of you, Melenor…” he pleaded. 

“I could never hate you, my husband…” Melenor assured softly. Sweet, sweet Melenor. 

“Thank you,” he muttered softly. 

He softly knocked, the crack on the door widening.

Allura looked up. She had been lying on her stomach, reading a book. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him. The guilt was gnawing away at him. 

He entered the room and she raced into his arms. 

“Father!” she cried out in joy. He signed and returned her embrace. While he had only been gone a few quintants, he and Allura were close. They were thick as thieves and Alfor didn’t like being away from his family for long stretches of time. Allura was used to it, of course. But even as a young woman now, she was always happy to see her father. 

He stepped back a little bit to get a good look at her. A true Altean beauty, through and through. Her mother’s daughter in appearance and spirit. He was always proud, so very proud. The pride and joy of Altea, she would make a most fitting queen. 

But the way she cocked her head to side with concern, it killed him. 

“Father? What is it?” 

He looked anguished, he was never any good at concealing his feelings. 

“Sit down, both of you,” he requested softly. 

Both women sat at the edge of Allura’s bed and looked up at him, waiting for him to speak. He couldn’t find the words. He hated doing this. 

But he had had time to think on his way back to Altea. Perhaps this alliance was just the excuse he needed. Zarkon and the Galra were now to be tied to them. It was a punishment for both, no doubt. But perhaps there was a silver lining. A chance to make this work in Altea’s favor. A chance to repay both Zarkon and Honerva once and for all. 

A chance to settle this age old feud once and for all. 

Alfor just hated that he had to position Allura as a pawn in this game. 

He kneeled down and looked back and forth between both women. He grabbed both of their hands. 

“Alfor…?” Melenor whispered. It was the first time in so long that he had heard her ask him anything. 

And Allura gave him a questioning look. 

He took a deep breath. He needed to get this over with. He looked right into Allura’s eyes as he spoke. 

“The Intergalactic Assembly has come to a decision and we must heed it if we are to go on. You must prepare, daughter. By the end of this deca-phoeb, you are to be married to Prince Lotor, Crown Prince of Daibazaal…”


	2. A Shared Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POVs: Allura & Lotor 
> 
> Yay! I'm glad you all liked the first chapter! Here's the second one! Which I decided to post on my birthday. So this update was a birthday present to me. Thanks again for the wonderful comments guys! 
> 
> One thing: I think because there is so much to this story, I'll be dealing with six different POVs. I think they're just important to the story and while this is still Lotura, I think the story of their parents have a lot of weight here as well. 
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy! 💜💖

“No.” 

Allura hadn’t had time to process it before the words were blurted out. Everything had stopped. Everything was dead silent around her. Suddenly it felt like all the air had been knocked clean out of her lungs as the words kept replaying in her head. She had sprung up from her seat on the bed. 

“ _...you are to be married to Prince Lotor, Crown Prince of Daibazaal…_ ” 

“ _...Crown Prince of Daibazaal._ ” 

Her father gave her the most tired, remorseful expression she had ever seen on him. And the words began truly sinking in. 

This wasn’t a joke. 

“Father, no…” it came out as a horrified whisper. She took one wobbly step backwards and felt soft hards grip her arms. 

“Breathe, dear. Breathe slowly,” her mother instructed soothingly. It didn’t help. Not one bit. 

“Allura,” Alfor sighed. “I am sorry. I really am…” 

Somehow, it was her father’s apology that made the universe feel out of balance and her head was spinning. But she didn’t faint. Oh no, she was furious. At him. 

“Why would you do this to me? _How_ could _you_ do this to me?” 

She didn’t really care for the answer but her father pinched the bridge of her nose and took a seat on a nearby desk. He was cross and he groaned out something unintelligible. She didn’t really have pity in that moment. 

“How could you just...agree to marry me off to the son of _that_ woman?” it was dangerous territory, she knew. 

But she dared and the shadow that fell upon her father’s face did not deter her, not even a little bit. 

“Allura!” her mother scolded, but she was defiant. She glared at her father. 

There was a voice in the back of her mind that was scolding her too, telling her that her father would never do something like this unless he was compelled to, unless there was a concrete reason. 

She told that voice to shut up. Whatever the reason, she would not. She could not. 

Alfor was dangerously quiet, his jaw clenched. It was one of those times Allura wasn’t sure if he was going to keep it in or explode. 

It was the former. 

Through gritted teeth he met her glare with his own, “It wasn’t my decision. I have no choice but to agree. The survival of our planet depends on it.” 

It was quiet again. Allura continued to glare and Alfor’s had softened. He looked apologetic. But apparently his hands were tied because there was the silent plea in the way he looked…

_Please forgive me._

“What happened, Alfor?” it was her mother who spoke this time. Ever the level-headed one among them, she decided to step forward. Allura broke eye contact with her father to look up at her mother. She wasn’t angry or upset. 

Concerned, maybe. 

Something else, but Allura didn’t spend long pondering because Alfor sighed and turned his attention to his queen. He gave her an apologetic look, a lingering one. 

“The usual…” was his answer. Allura looked between them. She watched her mother close her eyes and sigh. Her father just hung his head.

The usual. Vague. And he looked ashamed. 

She never asked her father in detail about the Intergalactic Assembly. She did ask general questions about what happened but she never specifically asked what he did. 

And she knew the story. She knew it all too well. Everyone did. And the assembly, that vile snake of an emperor was there too. King Alfor’s head could never stay on straight when it came to him. 

She could only guess what “the usual” was if they were forcing her father’s hand like this. Her father was a bit of a hothead. And he was slow to let anything go. She never blamed him for this, of course. But the answer was more than obvious with all that she did know. 

And she felt the bile rise in the back of her throat. 

She was angry. Ancients was she angry. 

And she ran. She ran as far as her feet could carry her. And she heard her mother call out to her, but it was distant. Like it was coming from thousands of miles away. She didn’t heed and she didn’t care. 

She just let her feet carry her. She couldn’t see anything either. Her tears were hot and they blurred her vision. It was no matter to her. She just needed to get out of there…

—

If anyone tried looking for her, they wouldn’t have to look too far. But they’d never found her when she climbed the highest tower and sat on the window sill. The buildings looked so small from where Allura was perched. The world seemed small. It was the greatest comfort for her. 

But she was anything but comforted at this very moment. She thought that she could run and forget, if just for a little while. But she couldn’t. 

If anything, seeing the Altean capital outside and all the people walking about, the burden of what was asked of her suddenly felt even heavier. 

No, it wasn’t being asked of her. It was being _demanded_ of her. She _had_ to do this if Altea was to survive with the rest of the universe. At least that’s what her father had said. He didn’t specify. She hadn’t let him. 

Her anger had become anxiousness and she hugged her knees to her chest. According to her tutors, it was one of the least proper things a princess could do. Because unless she was in bed, a princess was required to keep her feet on the ground at all times. 

To the void with manners and etiquette. Not like those would help her now. 

Marriage. And to the son of the woman who had humiliated her father on such a massive scale. How could she possibly accept any of this? 

And on top of that, she knew absolutely nothing of Daibazaal or the Galra. She supposed that she should have but she didn’t. Her father had referred to them as blood-thirsty barbarians. Early on, she had been taught to stay away from anything pertaining to them. And she did happily. She wanted nothing to do with them. 

The planets were not personal allies but they remained part of the larger Universal Alliance. There had been a cold war brewing between them for ages and tensions reached their peak when her father’s intended ran off with the Emperor. And now if they were forced to come together because of a marriage, who else could be to blame but those two? 

Such a selfish woman. Such an honorless man. Allura could not see them as anything else. 

And what of their son? Did it matter what he was like? He was raised among these barbarians. He was raised by _them_. So, actually, she didn’t care what he was like. She had no interest in getting to know him. He was forced on her. 

Stars, she felt sick. Her stomach twisted and turned. And her tears just fell. She felt stupid, she supposed. 

Her ears perked when she heard tiny squeaks climbing up the window sill. Finally, she could smile a bit. Four little mice climbed onto her hand and she smiled at them. Truth be told, the palace was a lonely place for a princess. There weren’t exactly many around her own age. But the mice stayed up here and would listen to her without judgment. 

And they would never tell either. 

“There you are. Are you well?” she asked, scratching behind one’s ear. And of course, the other three demanded the same. It was comforting. But they also sensed her distress. It was hard not to. 

She had probably woken them up when she ran in. She wasn’t exactly quiet. They had probably watched for a while. Probably understood that she needed her space. 

And now they just allowed her to talk, “What do I do?” 

They squeaked as if they were talking back to her. She acknowledged them with a nod of her head. 

“Yes, it’s terrifying. The Alliance wants to barter me off to those people like live stock. They are our age long enemies. How can I…?” she trailed off and looked back out the window. The world was so small. And she felt so big. 

Too big. 

“I suppose I could run away. Wander and explore the universe. But where would that leave Altea…?” she pet the tiny creatures as they spoke. They shook their heads angrily. 

“I suppose you would break your father’s heart if you did…” a gentle, but quiet voice said to her, causing her and the mice to nearly jump. 

Her mother was not one to sneak up behind anyone and catch them off guard. But today was a day or surprises. Her mother glided gracefully across the small room’s floor and the mice were about to scurry away but the queen smiled at them. 

“Well aren’t you all just precious…” she commented and the mice ceased to move. Queen Melenor just captivated all that were around her. 

Even King Alfor didn’t stand much of a chance once he got comfortable. But still… 

With the attention on the mice, Allura drew in a long breath. 

“The big one is Platt. He’s an absolute ball of sunshine. The small blue one behind him is Chulatt. He’s a little shy but he does shine once he’s comfortable with you. The grumpy one is Plachu but he can be an absolute darling even if he doesn’t want you to know that. And the pink one is Chuchule. She’s a child at heart.” 

Her mother smiled as she looked down at the mice. 

“You named them?” her mother asked and Allura nodded. 

“Of course. I couldn’t just refer to them as mice. They’re all different and deserved to have their own names.” 

The queen nodded thoughtfully, “Most would shriek or run away. And here you are, treating them as your companions.” 

Allura hummed, “Yes, well. They are my companions. Mice are misunderstood creatures. People just have negative perceptions of them because of what they’ve been taught…” 

The very tick those words left her mouth, she regretted it. 

“Possibly. Perhaps the same could be said for your intended…” 

Allura made a face. Whatever comfort that she had felt just moments earlier disappeared and it was replaced with the dread from earlier and a renewed feeling of anger. 

“Mother, not now…” 

_Don’t talk about it. Don’t talk about him. Don’t talk about those people…_

Her mother sighed as she sat on the window sill. It was a decent sized window and there was still space left over. 

“Fine. Not now. But we will need to, Allura.” 

Somehow, even when she was lecturing her, her Queen Mother had a soothing presence. But Allura had known it too well and she was not going to be swayed by it. Her mother’s reassurances weren’t going to save her from this. 

“Running away won’t help either,” she went on. “Your father already had one leave him. But you are his jewel.” 

And Allura couldn’t keep it anymore. 

“Yes! So what do we do now? We marry King Alfor’s Daughter to Lady Honerva’s son!” she was loud. And all caution was thrown to the wind. She didn’t care if anyone heard. Let them hear. Let them be angry. 

“Keep your voice down,” her mother’s voice remained quiet but her tone was edging on warning. It was rare to see Queen Melenor angry. And Allura did not envy anyone who was unfortunate enough to be there to see it. But once again, at the moment, she couldn’t give less of a care. 

It was a question of her life. And she was about to be tied in matrimony to someone that she already hated. And marriages were sacred to Alteans. This felt like it was spitting in the face of the Ancients. 

“I won’t. Someone has to fight for me. Seeing as I know you won’t and father has already agreed to it,” she clenched her fists tightly. 

Another sigh followed by a brief pause, “You know I have heard some things about him.” 

Allura scoffed, not in the least interested. 

“He’s intelligent, charming, and I hear that he’s very attractive…” her mother went on, slipping in that last one. Allura glanced her way to see a glint in her eye. She made a face. 

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Allura crossed her arms. She was scowling. She hoped it looked intimidating. “For all I know, that just means that he’s likely a rake.” 

“Wouldn’t you say that you’re letting your own negative perceptions get in the way?” 

“Please don’t use my words against me, mother. It’s not the same. The mice are harmless creatures. The Galra have done us much harm. I don’t know what you’re getting by telling me all this…” 

The queen leaned back and looked straight at Allura. 

“Well you are to be married. We can neither fight this nor should we. I don’t want you to be miserable Allura. I don’t want you to make yourself miserable either. I know this is not what you imagined for yourself. This is not what I wanted for you and it’s certainly not what your father wanted. But we must make do. And I want you to find happiness. Love can be found—” 

“Love?” Allura cut in. “Who said anything of love?” 

“Your father did not love me when we were wed,” Melenor pointed out. “We only knew each other in passing. But it grew. And it can be found.” 

Allura didn’t say anything. She elected to pout. It was childish, she understood. But there was no way in the void that love would blossom between them. At best, they wouldn’t try to kill each other. That was the best that she could hope for. 

She knew of the stories of her ancestors. Some of them openly despised each other but tolerated it long enough to secure a line of succession. That would be her story. And she hated it. But she would rather go through that than fall in love with the Crown Prince of Daibazaal. That would be a betrayal of herself, of her family, of her people, and of her planet. 

“It won’t happen, mother. I would sooner fling myself into the void than love the spawn of that union…” 

Silence. More deafening silence. 

“Allura, look at me,” her mother told her. 

She looked up. The face Allura was met with took her by surprise. Her mother’s face features were soft and her expressions usually matched. So when her expression was hard and commanding, it caught anyone by surprise. 

“If not for yourself, would you do it for Altea? Their survival,” the queen stuck her hand out the window and motioned to the people below, “Depends on staying in this alliance. We cannot go on without them. So I want you to think this through. As the future queen of the Altean people, are you willing to sacrifice this one thing for them…” 

Allura looked out the window, her mother’s hand still pointing downwards. The question replayed again and again. And she was asking herself the same thing. 

Would she? 

* * *

Prince Lotor stared blankly at his father. He searched his face, perhaps he had said it in jest. But no. Zarkon wasn’t one to joke about something that serious. Or joke about anything for that matter. 

Next to him, his mother look like she’d been struck by lightning because she was staring at him with wide eyes and her mouth hung open slightly. 

A marriage. With Altea. The Crown Princess of Altea no less. The daughter of the man whom his mother had run off on to be with his father. 

“Zarkon, what is this?” his mother’s question came out as more of a gasp. And Lotor couldn’t say he quite blamed her. Other than the fact that this was completely sudden, his father had just waltzed in here after being gone for a couple of quintants and decided to tell him that by the end of the deca-phoeb, he would be married. 

To the Altean Princess. 

“Yes, father, what is this?” he echoed his mother’s words and it only irritated Zarkon to the point where he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Must I repeat myself? You have been ordered to marry Princess Allura of Altea. The Alliance demands it of you. So get ready.” 

Yes, his father. Never one to ease someone into an uncomfortable or difficult position. No, he much preferred to push you right off the cliff and told you to figure out how to climb back up again. At least that’s how it had always been with the two of them. 

“Oh I understood that part quite well. I’m asking what brought it on,” Lotor crossed his arms. He was trying to relax himself but that proved to be difficult with his father glaring in his general direction and his mother not having yet recovered from the shock. 

Ever the sensitive and tactful one, his father. 

“Why should that matter? All that matters is that we are to be bound to Altea in matrimony whether you like it or not. They will kick both of us out if we don’t comply. So I’m telling you now, get ready boy.” 

Zarkon probably didn’t mean to sound inconvenienced or angry, but that’s always how he came off. Zarkon had always treated him coldly and seemed irritated by the mere presence of him. And Lotor never understood why. 

If it was because of his half Altean heritage, that was certainly not Lotor’s fault. But the prince had grown accustomed to his father’s cold, dismissive attitude. It would be more unnerving if his father suddenly started regarding him warmly. 

And then there was his mother. 

“Zarkon, what did you do?” his mother asked, having recovered from the initial shock. No one else could get away with talking to his father like that. No one questioned him. 

Except Empress Honerva. 

“Honerva…” his father muttered but instead of looking irritated, he looked ashamed. 

Ah, of course, so this had something to do with him and not Lotor. If the alliance was demanding it, Lotor could only put the pieces together. 

“It’s not just what _I_ did. Alfor started the whole mess. And you know how that went. People are sick of us, so to punish and blackmail us, we’re now being pushed to marry our son to Alfor’s daughter!” 

Lotor could have laughed at the bitter irony. King Alfor was originally betrothed to Lady Honerva of Altea but she fled with Emperor Zarkon. At one of those conventions no less. She became Zarkon’s consort and had given him a son. And due to that, the cold war that had been going on for ages between Altea and Daibazaal had heated up. 

And Prince Lotor was the reminder of that. He was the reminder of everything that went wrong because of one selfish decision. 

There were those that cursed him. There were those that said terrible things about his mother. And fascinatingly enough, no one ever dared to say anything about his father. 

And on top of that, Lotor was half Altean. The Galra did not have pleasant associations with those people or that planet. And physically speaking, Lotor looked Altean at a glance. That didn’t exactly help either. 

His mother responded by groaning, “Zarkon I keep telling you not to rise to every insult Alfor throws at you!” 

“Yes well what am I to do? Look weak and spineless while he insults me and the Galra? I think not!” Zarkon didn’t raise his voice. He never raised his voice with his beloved Empress. 

“Yes, but look where that has gotten us! And you do realize what you’re asking of our son, yes? We are to give his hand to a girl who’s almost certainly been raised to despise our family and don’t think for a moment that Alfor isn’t petty enough to use this to avenge the insult.” 

It was as if his parents had completely forgotten that Lotor was still present in the room. And so he used that time to think. 

Truth be told, he had been kept in the dark about his Altean heritage for the most part. His mother taught him all that she could. She was an alchemist and he had not quite been blessed with such gifts. 

It fascinated him, to say the least. This other half of him that he knew so little about. The part of him that he had accepted long ago that he may never have full access to. And suddenly the door was blown wide open. 

It wasn’t sinking in. And it was difficult to be ecstatic under current circumstances… 

“You are the best of two worlds. You will be one of the greatest the universe has ever known, I know it, my son…” she had told him often. 

Funny, because he had never felt it. 

But he was drawn back into the conversation when his father, very loudly, said, “Really Honerva, when has love had anything to do with marriage?” 

If the situation wasn’t what it was, that statement would’ve been hilarious enough to make Lotor lose his composure. 

“Really, Zarkon?” his mother did not sound impressed. And neither should she. 

“You know what I meant, my love,” Zarkon mumbled almost immediately. 

And his mother turned her attention away from her husband and to him. With a sigh, she got up from her place at Zarkon’s side. 

Lotor closed his eyes when he felt his bother’s small hand on his shoulder. It was comforting or at least it was an attempt to be.

He didn’t need it. He supposed this would have happened eventually. His hand would have been bartered off to the highest bidder. It was ironic, considering his origins story, but he was still a prince. And he would’ve had to work for the good of his Empire. 

“It’s alright, mother. I understand…” 

And for once, he saw a look of relief wash over his father’s face. And perhaps there was a little remorse there as well. His father never apologized for anything but the look on his face told him enough. 

It only lasted a moment. 

“Good. You understand then. That Daibazaal’s future in the universe and its survival hinges on this. I wouldn’t have wanted this for you, but let’s see it as an advantage. Altea cannot move against us without us knowing…” 

Of course. He should’ve foreseen that. His father had spun a disciplinary action and ultimatum to benefit himself somehow.

“And think of it this way: You are protecting the Galra. A sacrifice like this won’t be understood immediately but you protect us from an age old rival by keeping them in line. And one day, you’ll rule that world as well. No one will challenge us or threaten us after…” 

Lotor said nothing but he wasn’t a fool. It wasn’t that simple. And that was the first time that he heard his father sugar-coat anything. He had mastered the look of stone so he didn’t allow his thoughts show. 

And he looked to his mother and she just offered a smile. The truth was, his mother wasn’t the most comfortable mother. But she did try. 

As she always had. And she was his mother. And right now, the words that left her mouth next were the words that he needed to hear the most. 

“You are the best of two worlds. You will be one of the greatest the universe has ever known…” 

—

She laughed at him the entire time. 

“Alright,” he groaned. “That’s enough Zethrid. It wasn’t that funny.” 

Zethrid continued to laugh as she offered the prince a hand to help him up. He was completely sore from the amount of hits she had managed to land on him. And it was especially irritating because Zethrid was never going to let him live it down. She so rarely won their sparring matches that he wouldn’t hear the end of it unless he won at least 100 more matches after this. 

He could walk but she helped him to the bench anyway where they both plopped down. 

“Wow. That was horrible. What even happened? I kicked your rear end thoroughly. I mean you’re lucky no one’s here to see it!” 

He groaned as he took a swig from the bottle next to him. 

Should he tell her? 

“Where are the others? Acxa, Ezor, Narti?” he inquired, trying to change the subject. 

“Had things to do, I guess. Ezor got swamped with work elsewhere. So it’s just me and you,” she grinned. Lotor rolled his eyes. 

“Wonderful. I do enjoy our times together Zethrid, I really do…” he said dryly. 

She was going on and on about something after that, Lotor stopped paying attention because his mind wandered off to the original thing that made Zethrid so successful in beating him that day. 

His impending nuptials. He could stand to be uncomfortable with it, but he wasn’t 

Well, he was, but he understood what had to be done. Something like this would have had to happen eventually unless the planets ended up destroying one another. It was less the political aspect that he was uncomfortable with than it was the personal. 

The girl. The princess. His bride to be. A young woman he’d heard of only in passing but he’d never cared to look into. Why would he? It was awkward thinking about the Altean Royal Family all things considered. 

And now, she was to be his wife. 

He could only assume that things were still bitter if Alfor was causing incidents with Zarkon to the point where the Alliance was forcing them to unite their children in marriage. And while Alfor and Altea were uncomfortable topics with the Galra Royal Family, he was sure it was a different matter with the Altean Royal Family. 

Wonderful. 

“So what’s up with you, really? It’s not fun gloating here when you don’t even seem to care,” Zethrid said to him, bringing him out of his thoughts once more. 

Lotor sighed. She was one of his closest friends. Along with the absent Acxa, Zethrid, and Narti. Like him they were half Galra and like him, they felt rejected by Galra. And they were now in some of the highest positions in the Empire. 

And they were his best friends, aside from a cat. 

“And don’t think about lying. You’re the prince. We all find these things out eventually,” she added. She turned her body to give him the most serious look that she could. He made an uncharacteristic noise but she didn’t budge. 

“Oh and I suppose you’ll tell the rest of the world if I tell you?” 

“Only the girls. Come on, what’s up. You don’t usually suck this hard,” she egged on. If he wasn’t a prince, she’d probably poke and prod as she did with Acxa. 

He didn’t say anything, perhaps to draw out the suspense a little longer. And he liked to get a bit of a rise out of Zethrid too. 

And before she could whine and irritate him further, he decided to speak. 

“As you know, my father and King Alfor of Altea are...at odds,” he began. 

“Okay? What of it? Don’t tell me you’re distracted because of politics.” 

Lotor snorted, “As if. Well, now it does concern me. Father and Alfor butted heads one too many times and now I am being forced into marrying the Altean Princess. Any questions?” 

She had the same expression on her face that his mother did. Struck by lightning. And under any other circumstance, he would’ve burst out laughing. It was one of the few fun things in his life, catching Zethrid off guard. But he couldn’t exactly blame her. 

So he couldn’t quite relish it. 

But as it was with Zethrid so she sprang up, “You want me to crack some skulls? It can totally happen. I’ll just get the ladies and find out who put them up to this and—” 

“None of that. We all knew this would happen one day. I’m not so bothered by it. No need to commit crimes,” he dragged her back down. 

She pouted, “No fun. So then why are you distracted?” 

This was embarrassing, “I know nothing of the girl. What’s she like? How will she take it? Will we even be a match?” 

There was a long silence. A long, uncomfortable silence. Zethrid didn’t take her sweet time answering things. He turned to look but as he did, she burst out laughing again. 

In fact Zethrid was laughing so hard that she fell over and started rolling around on the ground. It was the most undignified thing for someone in the Crown Prince’s inner circle to be rolling around in the dirt and laughing like this. Zethrid was never one to care. 

But Lotor did in that moment. 

“Alright, it’s not that funny…” he glared down at her and she still didn’t let up. 

It was a few moments before she returned from her laughing fit. Lotor was glaring but chose not to speak as she wiped a tear. 

“Are you done?” 

Between some giggles, she answered him with, “Oh you’re a bigger romantic fool than I thought. This isn’t about being forced into marriage. You’re afraid that your bride isn’t going to like you. How isn’t that hilarious?” 

“I don’t think it’s that hilarious. Is it such a crime to want to know my wife and at least have a civil relationship with her?” he took another swig but he muttered some curses as he did so. 

She snorted as she finally regained composure, “Love and marriage don’t necessarily co-exist, you know? Especially when you’re royalty. Actually it’s messy. Look what happened with…” 

She trailed off. Lotor knew what she was about to say and was glad that she hadn’t said it. Good to know she had some tact. 

“Look if you want to know so bad. Just talk to her,” Zethrid suggested causing Lotor to roll his eyes. 

“Ah yes. I’ll just fly to Altea at this very moment and waltz into the palace right now. Thank you Zethrid. Why didn’t I think of that?” 

Zethrid made a face, “You know what I meant, smartass. If you want to meet her, find a way. But do make sure someone captures the moment. I want to see this with my own eyes. Who knew that Prince Lotor was such a romantic? You’re always thinking about what’s next but you’re actually just nervous about making a good impression with your wife. Precious. And hilarious.” 

He didn’t have a response to that. What was wrong with wanting to have a good relationship with one’s spouse. He was already sacrificing much to agree to this union. He wanted to know if she was willing to put aside centuries of animosity for this. He wanted to know if they were on the same wavelength. He wanted to know if there was a chance for them. 

And most of all he wanted to know this bit of him that he had been denied. Where was the harm in that? It was the heavy burden that they both shared. 

And above all, he had his duty. To Daibazaal, first and foremost. He had to protect the Galra and if this marriage gave him even a small opportunity to do that. 

It wasn’t something he necessarily wanted. He would’ve liked to make an alliance on his own and he didn’t care for the way this had come about. And he would be doing his father’s bidding no matter how he looked at it. He just needed to figure out how to make it work for him too. 

_If you want to meet her, find a way…_

That was the question at the forefront of his mind. He would have to find a way, indeed. But how? 

That’s what he needed to figure out. 


	3. A Silent Opportunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POVs: Honerva & Melenor 
> 
> And now for some time with the moms. I really wanted to focus on six central characters for this fic. Lotor and Allura are still at the heart of the story but their stories are weaved into the stories of their parents as well. So I just wanted a chance to explore them. More Lotor & Generals shenanigans next chapter. And some involving Allura as well. 
> 
> Enjoy! 💜💖

The night was quiet and peaceful. Quite the contrast from her husband’s state of mind, Honerva knew. 

But even if just for a little while, she knew that she could make him forget. Even in the aftermath as she pressed her bare breasts up against Zarkon’s muscular back, she could hear the sharp inhale of breath. 

“Must you do that?” he asked weakly. Honerva smirked as nuzzled his ear. 

“Oh yes. My husband is stressed and I am simply offering relief.”

“You are doing more than just that…” the emperor mumbled. Even so, he gently rolled over and wrapped his large arms around her small frame. 

Honerva gave him a lazy, but dreamy smile. Even after all these years, Zarkon managed to have this effect on her. They were older now. Their son was a man now. Yet, here they were, just as passionate as they had been in their youth. 

He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Honerva took the opportunity to lean in and kiss his palm. He never admitted it, but he enjoyed the small gestures of affection. The happy rumbling in his chest was evidence enough for her.

How she loved him. How she burned for him. 

Yet even in bed with her, after a particularly heated round of love making, he was far away. He wasn’t completely there. It didn’t matter how well Honerva worked her hands or mouth. The worry lines on Zarkon’s face were not disappearing any time soon. 

“...and yet, it’s not enough,” she sighed after placing another soft kiss to the inside of his palm. He didn’t say anything. He just averted his gaze. 

She hated when he did that. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” he muttered. “There is much on my mind.” 

An understatement, really. And she would’ve been lying if she said that tonight was simply about lavishing her attention on her husband. She wanted to keep her mind off of the upcoming royal nuptials. Even if half of the reason was indeed her husband’s fault, she wouldn’t nag him about it. Yet. 

“I know. It’s on my mind as well,” she answered, pulling the sheets over them. She didn’t move. She liked the view too much. 

His face soured, “That damn Alfor. I wasn’t even going to look his way this time. It is exhausting having to deal with that man after all these years. He has his own family now, yet he is still wounded by it all. And now we’re all in this mess. But it’s Lotor that must bear the full brunt of all this…” 

It was hard for Honerva not to smile. It was Zarkon’s own unique way of showing concern for his son. Behind a veil of concern for everything else. 

“Lotor took it well. Better than both of us I’d say…” 

Zarkon sighed, wrapping her up in his arms and pulling her as close as physically possible. 

“Because he finds opportunity in this. And because he’s young and naive, he seems to think that he may be able to unite both of his people under one banner. He is idealistic. This marriage will not solve anything. In fact, it may just cause more problems for us down the line. Or immediately.” 

He grimaced. Honerva knew that look well. He was thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong. As he always did. The only impulsive thing that he had ever done in his life was run off with her. Not thinking quite enough before running headfirst into a situation had always been more of Alfor’s thing. 

Her muscles tensed at the thought of Alfor. She hadn’t uttered or thought of him in decades and she preferred to keep it that way. Especially after the humiliation that she had brought upon him. Her only guilt was that she did not feel guilty for her choices or the outcome. Just for the one that she’d hurt in the process. 

Though that guilt slowly eroded away with each passing decade, whenever her husband returned from the annual convention, heated like a poked klanmurl. 

It was clear that he couldn’t let it go, even for the sake of peace. But Honerva supposed that neither she nor Zarkon had much room to speak on it. 

But perhaps Lotor could. 

“Don’t be so quick to discount him, Zarkon. To accomplish anything, there must be hope for better. How does one make progress without just a little idealism?” she smiled and winked at him. She brushed her lips against the skin above his heart. 

His heartbeat always had a calming effect on her. Even when it was beating so loud, she could mistake it for a drum. 

“He gets it from you,” he made a sour face. “He can’t be like that if he is to be emperor. He can’t act so…” 

Honerva froze, “So Altean?” 

She felt Zarkon tense under her. Of course. She never pretended that Zarkon still didn’t have his own prejudices. Even after all these years… 

“You know I didn’t mean-” he started but she stopped him. 

“I know what you meant…” 

He looked up at her apologetically, “I’m sorry, my dear. I know it’s part of him. But our people already hardly accept him because of what he is. He needs to work harder than any before him to prove he is worthy of keeping the fire of Daibazaal burning.” 

“And marrying an Altean princess only makes it look that much worse,” she finished for him. 

“My love, please…” he sounded so weak when he was pleading. And she hated it. 

“Please what? He already feels that you’re ashamed of him. And don’t forget, this marriage wasn’t even his doing. It was yours…” 

She felt him flinch under him. He gave her a look. The look of weariness, sadness, guilt… 

She had seen it too many times. 

“...and it’s not like he made the same...mistake that you did…” 

Zarkon scowled, grabbing her face and placing a firm kiss on her mouth. He was strong so she couldn’t have pulled away even if she wanted to. This kiss lasted longer than any kiss on that particular night. 

When he pulled away, he firmly said, “Don’t refer to yourself or what we have as a mistake. I won’t hear it. That isn’t what I meant. I just mean that he cannot remain as wide-eyed as he is now. Even I had my moments, as you know.” 

Honerva didn’t comment, She was sure he believed that. 

The next few minutes elapsed in silence. Zarkon had taken to running his large hands through her hair. She wanted to bring up the new addition to their family, but chose not to. It was already stressful enough for Zarkon to have to sell his son’s hand for the sake of his empire. The last thing that he wanted to think about was his son’s bride-to-be or upcoming nuptials. 

Honerva just buried her face into his chest. Tonight, she just wanted to lie in her husband’s arms and go back to a time when it was a world with just the two of them. 

A distant time. It felt like an eternity ago…

—

It was rare that Honerva found herself out of her labs while the sun was still high in the sky. But today was such a day. She hid behind a pillar and watched her son train. It was unusual to see him train without one of his generals there, but she supposed that he needed time to himself. After all, one of the biggest changes that life could bring was upon him. 

Today was the first day of wedding preparations. A day that she had once thought of would be something that might’ve brought her great joy and pride. 

Then again, she had hope against everything that her son would be taking his vows with someone he loved. Just as she had. Just as his father had. It was foolish. It was silly. 

But she was his mother.

She glanced down at her pad, looking carefully at the picture that she had obtained with great difficulty. The picture of the girl that was to be Lotor’s wife. Her daughter-in-law. She had tried hard to find fault but she couldn’t. 

Alas, the girl was a vision of beauty. Zarkon had mentioned a couple of times that Alfor liked to refer to her as his jewel. It was easy to see why. 

She resembled Melenor. 

Honerva leaned against the pillar. Ah, Melenor. Graceful, perfect Melenor. She had not seen her old friend in decades. Which was to be expected, all things considered. She never thought that their paths would cross again, let alone like this. 

She glanced back at Lotor. She had no idea if his form was correct or if he was even holding the sword correctly. But he didn’t show the slightest sign of fatigue. And she smiled. 

Her boy was strong. He was clever. He was everything she had hoped for. 

And yet…

Her smile vanished once again. He was marrying an Altean girl. And the Galra had barely forgiven Zarkon for doing the same. They only begrudgingly accepted Lotor as Crown Prince but Honerva wasn’t a fool.

There was another contender for the throne. One the Galra would definitely back as soon as the wedding was announced. 

Unless Lotor proved himself. And it had to be soon. Otherwise...

“You summoned me, Your Highness?” Honerva’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a sentry. 

She turned her attention from her son to look at the sentry. A small smile replaced her pensive expression, hiding the internal turmoil. 

There were still a few things left to do before Zarkon made the official announcement. And frankly speaking, she wanted the tensions between Altea and Daibazaal to end. It was not as she imagined it. She didn’t trust Alfor not to pull something, but it had to begin somewhere. She would have to make do with the situation, uncomfortable as it was. 

She would have to make this work. She was disliked but she was still Empress. 

“Yes. I need you to start drawing up a list of prominent Galra. I anticipate great celebrations soon...” 

—

Motherhood had not come easily to Honerva. She struggled and fumbled. She tried to give her son the best that she could. Growing up, she was so focused on academics and scientific progress that the thought of motherhood had never crossed her mind. 

Lotor turned out beautifully despite all of her and Zarkon’s shortcomings. She thanked the ancients for that every day. 

After training, she realized that he liked to retire to a private study. He sat on a chair in front of a giant table. Holopads and ancient star charts were scattered all over. 

His hand was on his chin and he was chewing on his bottom lip. The old cat, Kova, was perched on his shoulder, watching him. He was so lost in whatever he was doing, he didn’t even hear her coming in. 

She quietly sank down into the seat opposite him and he still didn’t look up. She waited a few moments before giving him a small smile and breaking the silence.

“Ancient star charts, hm? I’m almost entirely certain that those are outdated and proven incorrect.”

He didn’t look up, “Yes, well. Not all of them are incorrect. So much of the universe is left unexplored, we don’t know what is or isn’t correct.”

The heart of an explorer and adventurer, her boy had always had one. She always wondered if that was what he secretly wanted. And would he give up his throne for it?

It wasn’t a thought that she entertained often. Lotor was the best choice. The only choice. The alternative was a brute and blood purist. 

“Planning an expedition soon?” she asked and finally he looked up at her briefly. 

“Well, I was. But with father’s recent announcement, it seems that this will be delayed indefinitely…” 

Her smile disappeared at that and she shifted, making herself more comfortable. 

“I know we ask much of you. Probably too much of you. You have proven to meet every challenge with—” 

“Mother, we have always been direct with one another. You’re not very good at beating around the bush…” 

It probably wasn’t as harsh as Lotor made it sound. It was very difficult to irritate Lotor. Even he had taken the news of his impending marriage with a bit of hopefulness. Even if Honerva wanted the same thing, it was a little painful for her. 

“You grew up watching your father and me. When I would read to you at night, the romances were always your favorite part. And it seems that it has…” she trailed off, not sure where she was taking that. 

She heard Lotor groan, “I’m a man now, mother. I have no delusions of a great romance with the princess. It is a political marriage. I know both you and father are aging at the prospect of having...her in the family. I know what the Galra think. I know how this marriage is going to be perceived. I am no fool. I know this will be as easy as rolling a boulder up the side of the tallest mountain…”

She smiled sadly, “Yes. You know all of these things. It’s all that you’ve ever known. But I still see that spark of hope in your eyes as you say it. And I don’t blame you. No one wants a loveless marriage. Even if that’s the price one has to pay as a royal. You want that for yourself. You also want to be accepted by your people. I understand that well, my son.” 

“I don’t ask that she love me. I only ask for civility. If she does come to love me, that would be nice. But I don’t think it’s too much to ask that one’s spouse work with you. She and I were both thrown into this situation for the same exact reason. Not only that, Altea and Daibazaal have been in a silent war for ages. This is an opportunity, mother. I say we seize it. The blood of both planets run through me. I can’t help but feel that I was meant for this…” 

Her sad smile was glued in place. Her romantic, idealistic boy… 

“You are a man now, it’s true. But you’re still bright-eyed as ever…” she muttered. Then she went silent for a few moments, trying to gather her thoughts on what she would say next. “But before you go into this marriage, you must bring the Galra to your side…” 

She observed his every reaction. That seemed to get his attention and tensed up. Lotor wasn’t a fool. Or naive. He knew exactly where she was taking this. 

“No. Not like that. There must be another way,” he hissed, standing up and walking towards the window. 

Honerva didn’t move from the chair, “You know that there is no other way. Your forefathers all had to do it. Your father had to do it twice because our marriage was seen as a weakness and he had to prove himself again.” 

Lotor shook his head, “It’s barbaric. How is showing my power over slaves forced to fight in the pits a show of strength?” 

Honerva hated the practice as well. She knew how it was perceived when she refused to show up for matches. It felt wrong. It was terrible. And Lotor had inherited his mother’s distaste for the whole thing. 

The difference was that Honerva was not in the line of succession. What she cared for or not was of no consequence. But she was already despised. She had heard all of the names for her but she, especially, was accused of poisoning the bloodline. 

“Because that’s how it’s done,” she answered. She hated giving answers like that. 

She got up and walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t react. But she could see his expression on the glass. He was annoyed. 

“It shouldn’t have to be done that way. There must be other ways. How can we as a society progress if we remain stuck in our old ways? But if I must fight to show my strength, I will not fight slaves. I will not. I will only fight those who wish to challenge me.” 

Honerva didn’t press the issue further. It was better, she supposed. The Galra might not agree. But it was not easy to force Lotor into anything, if possible at all. If there was anything, anything at all that he shared with his father, it was that streak of stubborness. The only thing that was bringing Zarkon to his knees now was the threat of being taken out of this alliance. 

It seemed like the problems that the men in her life faced were because of her directly. No, not directly. They  _ were  _ directly caused by her. 

“And of this marriage? What’s your plan for that?” she asked, quietly. 

He only tensed at that, “I haven’t thought of that yet. I wish to meet her first. I want to know what she’ll think of all this. I want to know what I will be walking into.” 

Of course. To anyone else, it would sound like he was trying to feel around and plan accordingly. That any move he would make would be a calculated one. But she knew her boy better than that. He wanted to know her. He wanted to please and appease. That is how he had always been. He was just very good at hiding it behind the mask of pragmatism. 

Only Zarkon and Honerva were not fooled by it. It’s why Zarkon worried. It’s why he was so tough and cold towards him. 

“But do you want it? Truly? Is this what you want? Forget the politics for a moment.” 

Lotor said nothing. 

With this new challenge in front of her, the wheels in her mind started to turn. She didn’t know what she would find when she spoke with her son today. She had wanted to speak with him, know where he stood. Know where she stood in all of this.

“Well then. It is customary to send something to your bride then. It’s an Altean custom as well. Something personal, usually. If you wish for this whole thing to succeed, you must put in some effort…” 

Lotor didn’t respond but Honerva knew that he was considering what she was saying. She turned on her heel and slowly exited the room. 

There was someone she needed to speak with. Actually, there were a couple of people that she needed to speak with. She was aiming in the dark here, but she had to begin somewhere. 

Until now, she didn’t think she could do anything for either of her worlds. But now, the opportunity had presented itself. 

And she would, as Lotor had put it, seize it...

* * *

Melenor glanced down at her communicator. Her brows came together as she continued to stare at the message. 

“What is it, my dear?” Alfor’s voice broke her concentration. She didn’t miss that he sounded incredibly uninterested in the answer. And it bothered her. It always bothered her…

“Oh just someone I was discussing wedding details with. She has some interesting ideas. Unique I would say,” she responded. 

And from the corner of her eye, she could see Alfor’s expression souring. It was almost best not to bring it up, but what could she do? It was happening whether Alfor liked it or not. 

“Why bother? No one will be pleased with marriage. Not the Alteans. Not the Galra. Certainly not me. It will have to be small…”

No, it couldn’t be. It wouldn’t be. Allura was their only child. She was Alfor’s only heir. She would rule one day. Her wedding could not be small. The alliance wouldn’t care for the pomp or size of the festivities, but both the royal houses of Altea and Daibazaal would have to make a grand affair of the whole thing. 

The fate of two races and billions depended on it. 

“It hardly matters, Alfor. But you and Zarkon will have to make a show of reconciliation through all of this. Don’t think that the wedding will be the end of it,” she answered. 

“Exactly. It won’t be. Do you understand how disastrous this union will be? Not just for our family but for Altea? We are handing over our jewel and throne over to them! Don’t think Zarkon wouldn’t relish in the thought of that once he realizes it!” 

Melenor didn’t say anything. She just watched Alfor’s face turn different shades of red as he continued to rant about the ill effects of this marriage. And yet, it would be Melenor’s headache for the next few phoebs. The cons of refusing to go along with the marriage outweighed the pros. 

“And they’re making me hand her over to Zarkon and…” his voice trailed off. He still couldn’t speak her name. Even after all this time. 

Another matter that bothered Melenor. Even with Alfor’s assurance that he loved her and only her. There was always that cloud that hung over them.

Perhaps it was time to end this once and for all. Melenor was just sorry that her daughter had to pay the price of her father’s decades’ old open wound. 

“Allura isn’t speaking to me,” Alfor said through gritted teeth. 

Melenor turned to look at him, feeling genuine empathy for her husband. Even if he didn’t always come through as a husband, he had always tried to be a good father. And Melenor suspected that it was their daughter that healed his heart after everything was said and done. 

Now he was about to lose her in the same way that he had lost his first love: to Zarkon and Daibazaal. 

Melenor had been there when it happened the first time. She would be there again when it happened this time. 

Alfor had called her perfect. A gift even. Even if it was far from the truth. Or far from how Alfor treated her. 

But she stayed. She would always stay. Because she loved him. She always had. She always would.

But she didn’t want her daughter falling into the same cycle of resentment and contentment either. Allura would be present at that altar but she would be determined to be miserable. Because despite everything, she would never dream about doing anything to hurt her father. 

Finding happiness in this marriage would be the biggest betrayal of that. It disturbed Melenor. And it made her feel guilty. In trying to be a dutiful and loyal wife, she felt that she had allowed this. 

And now was her opportunity to fix it. 

She moved close to him. She fit perfectly in his arms and Alfor never rejected her affection. He just wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into her hair. It worked every time. 

“Give her time. The whole thing is a great shock to her,” she whispered against his chest. 

“How, Melenor? How can I just hand her over to them? And I know nothing of Zarkon’s son…” 

Melenor decided that it would be wise not to bring up the reputation of the prince. The last thing Alfor needed to hear at that moment was anything positive about any member of Zarkon’s family. 

Perhaps later, but not tonight. 

Tonight, he wanted to snuggle close to his wife and forget all of these problems. All of the problems that he had caused with his bitterness but he didn’t want to be reminded of any of that. 

He was in the mood for something else entirely and Melenor was happy to oblige him, of course. 

When she pressed his lips to his, he closed his eyes and responded without hesitation. Even when she pushed him down onto their large bed and hovered over him, his eyes remained close. 

He wanted this. His body was in the mood for this. But his mind was almost a billion miles away. On Daibazaal. And he wanted to forget. And she would make him forget. 

It bothered her. Yet she said nothing. She never, ever said anything…

—

Despite the objections from Alfor, Melenor decided to go ahead with the official wedding planning. She decided to bypass the official royal planner. 

Because it was Coran’s time to shine. 

His whole life had been leading to this very moment. And he also understood the gravity of the situation, so he would know exactly how to plan the event. 

“I think we should start with the official guest list,” Melenor said, walking side by side with him. “At least making note of it. As you know, I will have to get in touch with the royal family of Daibazaal…”

She bristled a bit at the thought. “Awkward” didn’t even begin to describe this. And with Alfor being obstinate and unwilling to reach out, Melenor would have to. In every other circumstance, there would be no issue. 

“Not to worry, Melenor! Why when Alfor and I were young, I had only half a quintant to pull together a feast! You remember which one!” Coran responded. 

Melenor could only smile at the reminder. Back in those days, she, Alfor, and Honerva had all been friends. Alfor had always been a little forgetful and early on in his reign, he forgot one of the biggest festivals on Altea. 

Coran could work wonders. And he was truly in his element. 

“How’s Alfor taking it?” Coran asked, taking on a more serious tone. 

Melenor’s face fell slightly, “As well as you’d expect. He’s spent half the day moping and the other half locked in his study. So it looks like it’s just you and me.”

“Shouldn’t the bride take some part in the preparations?” he questioned, though it was more rhetorical. 

“I think she would rather be shoveling yelmore dung. And those were her exact words,” Melenor stopped and sighed. Allura wasn’t speaking to her as well. 

She wasn’t speaking to anyone. The lively, outgoing princess had confined herself either to her sleeping chambers or to the highest tower in the palace. The queen supposed it was better than trying to run away.

But she was so determined to be miserable. 

“Ah yes. Always the fun thing about arranged marriages,” Coran mused, followed by a small laugh. It was humorless though. “I’ve never actually seen a happy couple in a noble or royal wedding.”

Melenor had walked ahead of him and gave him a pointed look over her shoulder, “That’s not true. You saw me. I’m not so sure about Alfor…”

No, she was sure. It just pained her to say it out loud. 

Coran was one of the few people who knew the troubles behind closed doors. As loud and goofy as he was, he understood and said nothing. And it was easy for Melenor to confide in him. It would never make it back back to Alfor. 

Everything she had been taught as a young woman had stayed with her. It was her duty to bear it all in silence. And that’s exactly what she would do. 

She felt Coran’s hand on her shoulder, “He does love and value you, you know that, don’t you?” 

No. She actually didn’t. She couldn’t fool herself into believing that. It was just great comfort to hear it once in a while. 

Melenor shook her head, before any tears threatened to fall. She was a queen. She had to present herself as dignified. She had to set an example. That’s what she had always done. 

“I just don’t want Allura to fall into the same trap of bitterness and resentment. You know how something like this could be. And Allura was prepared for this. She just wasn’t prepared for…”

“...Prince Lotor of Daibazaal?” Coran finished for her and Melenor sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day. 

“Yes. Alfor has never forgiven the slight and humiliation. And it seems like the stars are playing a practical joke on him by choosing Honerva and Zarkon’s son for our daughter.”

There was a part of Melenor that wanted to laugh despite their being absolutely nothing funny about the situation. She didn’t hate the idea.

Especially since she had promised to see Honerva again when…

No, she didn’t dare finish the thought. Not even in her head could she repeat that.

“Oh don’t I know it. Allura has vowed since she was old enough to talk that she would forever hate the people who caused her father so much hurt. I would’ve thought she would have gotten over that,” Coran sighed as well. He had found a nice seat on one of the planters. 

“She idolizes Alfor. This whole thing has felt like a complete slap in the face to her. Her whole life she was taught one thing but now she is forced to do something completely different,” Melenor moved so that she was seated right next to Coran. 

“Sometimes I forget how young she is. You’ve seen her skills in diplomacy. But this is only proving that she is still unworldly…”

Melenor stared at her hands. There was no one around to see her in her moment of weakness. No one but Coran. Her heart felt heavy and the weight she was being forced to pull seemed almost too much. 

She heard the sound of footsteps and she looked up. Nearby, Allura walked, her nose buried in a book. Her facial expression was unreadable and Melenor couldn’t quite make out what she was reading. She would have called to her, but decided against it. She just watched her daughter walk around, uncharacteristically quiet. 

Even from this far away, Melenor could see the look of barely concealed sorrow and disgust on the girl’s face. 

Next to her, she could hear Coran sigh. He was obviously watching her as well. It was a rare occasion that he could sat silent for so long. 

Servants, foreign dignitaries, and even the common folk said that Allura was the spitting image of Melenor. But in mannerisms, she was very much like her father. 

That wasn’t true. Allura hid her feelings well, locked them deep inside her heart until they were forced to come to the surface. 

She would do things with a smile, even if she was crying on the inside or seething with rage. 

This marriage, however, would not be one of those times. Allura was going to show up to her own wedding with a scowl. She would go through it but no one in the universe would be allowed to be under the delusion that she would be happy about it. 

She had sworn to hate Prince Lotor. Without seeing him. Without knowing him. She had already made up her mind. 

Melenor would have to put a stop to that. She had always had an extraordinary relationship with Allura. They had been closer to friends than they had been to mother and daughter. Very rarely did Melenor have to discipline or scold the princess. 

This would have to be one of those rare times. 

And if not, there was something else that she could do. And she may have to do it. 

It would be the first time that she was going against her husband’s wishes. But what other choice did she have?

She had always wanted the conflict between Altea and Daibazaal to end. And now it would have to. For her daughter’s sake. 

_ And  _ for the sake of her own marriage. 

The queen wasn’t fond of carrying her communicator around everywhere she went. How could one experience life if they were so concerned with documenting it or constantly chatting away with others? 

And Melenor liked her time away from people. She could be herself in those moments. 

But she stared at the message that she had received the previous night. 

_ It has been a long time, old friend. I know this is not how we intended to meet again, if we ever did, but it seems that we must now. Our secret place, perhaps?  _

_ — H _

The queen exhaled soft enough for Coran to look her way. 

“Melenor?”

She paid him no mind as she began to type away her answer. 

This would have to start somewhere. 

_ Yes. In a week’s time. I’ll come alone if you do. We have much to catch up on.  _

_ — M _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are much appreciated! 
> 
> [Tumblr](https://adharraa.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/adharraa)


End file.
